Saturday, June 9, 2012
Today was another one of those days that I was happy for it to end. However, I do recognize that I should be grateful for another day to breathe air. Another day of being with those I love. Another day of being a mother. Another day of spilled milk. But, I'm going to be practical here and suggest that not all days are created equal, nor are they equally snuggled up to my heart. Today was just not one of those Hallmark card moments.
Dialogue around the house went roughly like this:
"She's pushing me."
"I want a drink."
"Not the yellow cup! I want the blue cup!"
"I need to pee."
"Ow! Ow! I fell down, Mom!"
[Obnoxious fake crying]
"Kiss my owie, Mom."
"Where's my blue truck, Mom? Find it."
"Look, Mom! It's an ant on the ground! Come see!"
"Watch me, Mom."
"Come here, Mom."
"She's screaming at me. Tell her stop."
"I need to pee."
"I need a Kleenex."
My baby girl doesn't talk a whole lot, but her presence is sure to be known. Here's her contribution:
"Mamaaa! Mamaaa! Mamaaa! Mamaaa! Mamaa!" (repeat as many times necessary before acquiring a migraine.)
"Up! Up! Uuuuuup!" (meaning to pick her up)
And plenty of high pitched girly screams enough to perk the ears of all the neighborhood dogs.
I was forced to think about the things I had to say today, so the next several phrases summarize the best of what I could come up with:
"If you don't want your sister to push you, don't push her in the first place."
"The blue cup is dirty. Choose another color."
"Either drink from this cup or no drink at all."
"Can you ask nicely?"
"You're not bleeding. Stand up and shake it off."
"Stop taking toys away from her. Please, give it back."
"That was naughty."
"Please share with your sister."
"Where did you put your blue truck? You have two feet--you look for it."
"Those rocks can't come into the house; they need to stay outside."
"Who turned the hose on? You need to ask permission first."
"Go sit on the stairs."
"Was that a good decision or a bad decision?"
"Where should you be using your chalk? Yes, very good, on the ground. Should you be writing with it on the screen door?"
"Hey, stop shutting the door on your sister!"
"What does stop mean?"
"Can't you see that she's crying? That means you should probably stop."
"I mean it."
"Both of you need to chill out."
It takes an inner skill to not let certain repetitious moments get the best of me--I'm working on it. As I lugged around the lingering cold that I've had for a week now, I would have to say that I performed 80 percent of my parental duties, single handedly, on auto pilot. Not bad for a tired and sick mom such as myself. While the kids were napping, I took a nice, long, hot, and long overdue shower. And I did my hair. Pretty soon, my sinuses were clearing up, my hair was all purtied up, and I got my bang on. Bangs like Zooey, that is.
I used to like Z.D. as an actress, but her overexposure lately kinda kills it for me. She may or may not have influenced me to cut bangs over a year ago. And she may or may not have influenced our long list of baby names either.
At the end of a fantastically whiny day where the only clean thing in my house is the kitchen sink, I can rock out in my bangs and feel somewhat good about myself.
And maybe even laugh about it.